


Proper Coinage

by ThrillingDetectiveTales



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 03:51:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15922310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThrillingDetectiveTales/pseuds/ThrillingDetectiveTales
Summary: “Nine years we’ve spent doing beer and pizza. Why fix what ain’t broke?”“Because two of those years you didn't even know we were dating?” Vasquez teased. Faraday rolled his eyes.“Well,nowI do,” he sighed. Vasquez laughed at him.





	Proper Coinage

**Author's Note:**

> I’m trying to finish out all the started fic I have amassed in my GDocs and figured this would be a decent place to start. It was originally intended to be the opening scene to a longer fic where Faraday travels back to Mexico with Vasquez shortly after their tenth anniversary and meets his family and realizes that, emotional constipation aside, he’s pretty happy with the way things have shaken out.
> 
> Unfortunately I don’t think I’ll ever get around to penning the story in full, but I’m awfully fond of the opener and thought y’all might enjoy it as well!

“Ugh,” Faraday sighed from where he was posted up in front of the mirrored door of the closet. He glanced skeptically over at Vasquez, gaze a flicker of unimpressed green in the mirror over the sink, and yanked the disastrously rumpled tie from around his neck, shaking it out in front of him. “Do we have to do this?”

Vasquez huffed a laugh, grinning at Faraday’s reflection where it had already turned away from him to frown down at another calamitous attempt to effect a half-Windsor, and responded fondly, “Sí, guerito. We do.” He straightened up, tugging his collar into place, and sauntered over to stand behind Faraday. “I already made the reservations.”

“ _Goddamnit,_ ” Faraday hissed, glowering furiously at his tie and pulling it free from his neck again. He slanted a scowl at Vasquez over his shoulder and muttered hotly, “Nine years we’ve spent doing beer and pizza. Why fix what ain’t broke?”

“Because two of those years you didn't even know we were dating?” Vasquez teased. Faraday rolled his eyes.

“Well, _now_ I do,” he sighed. Vasquez laughed at him.

“I know you do,” he assured with a grin, slipping one arm around Faraday’s waist and reaching for the tie with the other. “Ten years calls for a celebration, amorcito,” he insisted gently, tugging the tie from Faraday’s hands and dropping an easy kiss against his temple. “Besides, you love barbecue, and this is supposed to be the best barbecue in Los Angeles.”

“It _better_ be, if there’s a damn dress code just to eat it,” Faraday grumbled darkly. He made a grabbing motion in the air in front of him. “Gimme that back, I can do it myself.”

“Tell you what,” Vasquez offered, slinging the tie over his shoulder and reaching into his pocket. “Why don't you wear this instead?”

The St. Jude medallion had been a gift from his father, passed down the family line for nearly a hundred years, image worn thin were Vasquez’s ancestors had grasped it in prayer. He’d been wearing it since long before he and Faraday met on Chisolm’s strike force all those years ago, trusting his safety to the fragile heirloom just like his father had before him, and his grandfather before that.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken it off, so used to it's comforting weight against his chest that even so subtle a change as dressing without it left him feeling off-balanced, stripped bare. Though, he reminded himself over the sudden anxious roll in his gut, it would be far worth the minor moment of discomfort to see the man he loved so dearly with a century of his family’s faith strung up across his shoulders.

Faraday frowned, obviously confused to see the medallion dangling in front of him on its thin leather cord, glinting dimly in the light as it swayed in the air.

“Your necklace?” he asked. “Why?”

Vasquez rolled his eyes, pressing in close behind Faraday and huffing a laugh against his cheek.

“It’s in poor taste to ask why someone is giving you a gift, mijo,” he chided gently, unbuttoning Faraday’s collar a little way.

“First dinner reservations and now gifts?” Faraday asked, harassed and judgmental, though he tilted his head forward willingly so that Vasquez could tie the cord around his throat. “Sounds like you’re going soft in your old age.”

“Maybe,” Vasquez agreed easily. For all his posturing, Faraday swallowed, loud, when Vasquez’s fingers brushed against his skin. Vasquez could see the soft, sweet curl of his smile in the mirror, the tender gleam in his eyes and the faint pink flush to his cheeks. He pressed in a little closer as he finished, wrapping both his arms around Faraday’s waist and drawing the other man back against him. His voice was a low rumble when he added, “Or maybe I just like seeing you wear my things.”

“Possessive bastard,” Faraday grumbled cheerfully, leaning into the embrace. He stared at the medallion in his reflection, nestled against the hollow between his collarbones. There was something hazy and soft in his face, hand floating up like he wanted to touch it before he twitched and came back to himself with a blink, letting it fall back down to his side.

They made a handsome couple, Vasquez thought absently - Faraday’s fair complexion and auburn locks a lovely counterpoint to his own darker tones. He liked the way the medallion picked out the red in Faraday’s hair, the warmth in the sparse spray of freckles that sat high across his cheeks, all of him punched up in bronze against the brassy gold of the little coin.

“Well?” Faraday asked, taking a deep breath and curling one hand over Vasquez’s arm. “What do you think?”

“Muy hermoso, cariño,” Vasquez murmured, squeezing Faraday tight and  pressing a kiss to his cheek. Faraday made a face, though he was grinning, and swatted at Vasquez’s arm.

“Cut it out, you’re gonna wrinkle my shirt.”

“The romance is dead,” Vasquez sighed, shaking his head mournfully while Faraday snorted. “Es oficial.”

“The romance was never alive,” he corrected, turning in Vasquez’s arms so that they were face to face, one palm splayed across Vasquez’s chest, fingers of his other hand curled over the top hem of the front pocket of Vasquez’s slacks. He ran his thumb along the fabric of Vasquez’s shirt, catching gently on a button, and arched an eyebrow, smirking dark and impish. “If this is a thing we’re doing now, with the presents and the fancy dinners, I hope you know that I expect a truly extraordinary lay at the end of it.”

Vasquez huffed a little laugh, curling his palms over Faraday’s hips and leaning in for a kiss. Faraday sighed into it - the small, contented sound he sometimes made when he was happy - and tilted his head.

His mouth was warm and soft and inviting, tongue darting out to trace a slick line across Vasquez’s lips, opening up up sweetly when Vasquez chased it back with his own. After a few long, languid moments they pulled apart - Faraday grasping at the fabric of Vasquez's shirt and Vasquez with one hand tangled in the short, soft curls at the nape of Faraday’s neck. They were both flushed and breathing hard, the heat in Faraday’s cheeks made to look all the fiercer blooming against his fair complexion.

He grinned in a wide arc, pink-faced, eyes gleaming, a perfect portrait of happiness poised above the shining metal disc that had seen the Vasquez family safely through any number of losses and heartaches and dangers going back for generations.

Vasquez couldn't resist leaning in to kiss him again, softer.

“I think, guero,” he assured lowly, against the lush curve of Faraday’s smile, “that can be arranged.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
